


Four Feet are Better than Two

by Kara_J



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: F/M, Family, Pregancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2018-11-22
Packaged: 2019-08-27 20:40:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16709674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kara_J/pseuds/Kara_J
Summary: Soul and Maka's daughter has her first ballet recital when they learn she's not so brave on the stage. Soul learns that it's going to take more than a few words to keep the show going.





	Four Feet are Better than Two

There’s chatter everywhere. A plethora of proud parents sit before an old but elegant wooden stage with a rich velvet curtain drawn across. Soul and Maka sit in the closest seat they could find, the second section from the front. It’s okay, though. It’s close enough they can see pretty well, and Maka’s camera has a decent zoom feature.

Beside them also sit BlackStar and Tsubaki. Their friends’ presence only adds to the excitement. Maybe it’ll even inspire the couple to have a little one of their own, too, since they just tied the knot. They’ve both suggested several times that their children would be beautiful.

 “It’s so hard to believe she’s five now,” Tsubaki starts. Her gentle voice carries both shock and awe and she squeezes her husband’s hand.

 BlackStar, on the other hand, has an entirely different agenda for Soul and Maka’s little one. He booms with near echo, “Next thing you know, she’ll be training with me as a meister tomorrow! Ha ha ha!”

 “Oh c’mon, dude,” Soul groans. “I’d like her childhood to actually last.” Not that she _couldn’t_ eventually become a meister. Hell, she might even produce a weapon form. However, this isn’t something they’ll know until she matures a little. Soul knows from his own experiences of discovering his weapon blood - it doesn’t happen _that_ quickly. For now, though, he’s content just seeing her safe.

 Beside him, Maka sends a warm smile. “Well, you better be ready for round two, then.” She reaches her arm around Soul as much as she can and offers a small peck on the cheek. Neither knew that they would enjoy parenthood so much. If anything, it had scared them, but small moments like this, waiting in the dark to see what their child worked so hard to learn… _this_ is bliss.

BlackStar silently mimics a gag. Soul swears he can hear the faint words of “ _family man_ ” within the gutteral sound. Scoffing lightly, the deathscythe shoves premature insults to the back of his mind, preserving them for later. He’ll learn one day.

 Suddenly the lights go dim as the crowd quiets down. Cameras and phones rise up like there’s no tomorrow, a handful of them with blinding flashlights on, despite everyone having been forewarned against it. Luckily, Maka and Soul have a _real_ camera, and Soul already has it pointed to the stage. BlackStar’s already determined that he’s too lazy to bring a camera if Soul is going to record it anyway.

 Velvet curtains split apart to reveal a short but lean dance instructor. “Welcome to the Death City entertainment hall! It’s in our humblest gratitude that we are able to gather here for an amazing show. Additionally, we thank you for your attendance today, parents, relatives, and good friends alike. The Little Tykes Dance welcomes you to our annual ballet recital! Our students have done very well practicing hard for this amazing event. They’ve put put together a special show. We’re excited to present to you: _The Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy_!”

 That said, the instructor glides to the right side of the stage and disappears behind the tucked curtain. A moment later, she reappears, guiding a group of children along with her. She leads them across the stage until they’re broadly aligned over the stretch of the wooden floor in a staggered line.

 Each one wears a pastel pink tutu and adorable, matching ballet shoes with silk-lined strings tied up to their ankles. With large, white wings attached to their back, they all look like little fairies. The girls also have their hair dressed up in varying intensities of curls, some more unkempt than others in the midst of their bouts of impatience, Soul and Maka’s child being one of them. Soul is tempted to go up there and fix it for the perfect picture, but in a sense, it’s actually kind of cute this way. Kid would have a fit if he were here. Soul will have to save the photos as collateral when she gets older.

 As soon as they’re all in place, though, it quickly becomes evident that one of the children isn’t quite feeling the performance tonight. Just as quickly as the music starts, the white-haired toddler on the far left side of the makeshift line drops to the ground in a sudden, onset tantrum. Tears endlessly stream down her face and the other five year olds lean over from their spots, curious as to what has their partner so broken down.

 The instructor tries for a moment to soothe the bawling kid, but the unheard words and gentle touch on her shoulder isn’t working. Even when the media crew behind the scenes stops the music, she won’t stand up, won’t stop crying, won’t articulate any words to even express why she’s so distraught. All she knows is to cry right where she sits.

 However, there are two words Soul and Maka can make out, ones they know all too well. “ _Au-ma! Au-da!_ ” Where she picked them up from, they have no idea, but she hasn’t stopped using them in her tantrums since, despite how well she speaks, and _especially_ when she wants something.

 This shouldn’t be happening. Avery generally sports her mom’s bravery during practice, eagerly jumping to the next move before they were supposed to even do it, and with a smile on her face at that. This, though… _This_ he knows all too well from childhood piano recitals. Ave’s picked up his stage fright, too, and nothing the instructor tries has soothed her yet.

 Soul knows what he has to do. Avery’s calling for them, beckoning their comfort, but Maka’s protruding belly won't make it through the narrow, crowded isles well. She’d be waddling at most on already swollen feet. He has to be the hero this time and get to the front right _now_ if there’s any hope to get the show going again. Silently handing off the camera, all it takes is one gaze for Maka to understand. She takes the camera into her hands and waves him off with a quiet “good luck.”

 He easily slips through the aisles, jogs down the walkway to the front, and peers upwards from the floor. “Don’t worry, daddy’s here!” he assures, keeping his eyes locked on hers. Avery’s generally a happy kid and it’s relatively easy to make her smile, but his soothing words aren’t working. She’s still sulking on the stage floor, hands grabbing towards him as if he were in reaching distance. He’s going to have to get closer if there’s any hope of stopping the tears pouring from her green, green eyes.

 Avery’s gaze follows as Soul runs around and exits the audience floor and enters a door beside the stage. Her eyes water up again and the girl sucks in a few breaths in shock, readily building her lungs for another outburst. She’s just about to launch into another (possibly louder) tantrum when suddenly Soul barely peers from behind the curtain and steps on stage.

 It’s his turn to console her. “Remember when we went to practice?” Avery offers a tiny nod. “It’s the same thing you were doing in there.” He hopes to see a smile, but her eyes are still misty from pooling tears that haven’t fallen yet. “Only this time, it’s on a stage. And all those people out there just want to see you dance just like you did for mommy and daddy. That’s all.”

 “I don’t wanna dance for them, though. I wanna dance for _you_.”

 “We _are_ here, honey. We’re just with other people today. In fact, do you see mommy?” Soul continues, pointing to where Maka sits, recording them. His wife lowers the camera and sends a loving smile upstage as she waves at the scared little girl. “Try looking only at her; pretend like nobody else is there. I’m not going away either. I’ll be right here, okay?”

 Avery nods again. She’s a little soothed now, not quite as hysterical as before, so Soul steps back behind the curtain, careful not to walk away too quickly, lest the girl think he’s leaving out of her sight. Her sniffling dissipates, but she’s still not smiling, even as the music starts again. A statue-esque pose, small crossing feet and fiddling thumbs are every sign that she’s still paying more attention to the faces that she doesn’t recognize. It’s going to take more than a small speech to inspire some motion out of the child.

 He has no choice. As he steps back in front of the crowd again, the music doesn’t stop this time. His tone is quiet and gentle as he encourages her. The line has their hands above their head with barely touching hands, so he copies the pose. “Like this, Ava, remember?”

 A smile finally cracks on her face. It’s faint, but it’s there, and she’s not crying anymore. Avery shyly mimics him, throwing her own arms above her head, too, a bit too late for the cue.

 “Good girl!” Soul gently whispers anyway, lowering one of his arms to take a hold of her hand to spin her around. She’s still watching him, so he spins as well. If anyone says a man couldn’t tiptoe gracefully, he’s just proved them wrong. They are a little off beat, but, she’s doing _something_ now.

 Soul can feel everyone’s eyes on him. Of course they would be staring, because what other grown man goes on stage with a group of five year olds to dance to the Sugar Plum Fairy? Maybe this is his cue to step back again and let Avery enjoy her spotlight along with her dance mates (who also seem to be enjoying the show). The minute he lets his hand off and steps a foot away from her, though, her smile drops, so he quickly gets back to her side.

 

After all, _the show must go on_.

 

With their hands clasped together again, he brings his feet together and bends his knees as gracefully as a father can (which is actually surprisingly good, considering his rich raising). “Like this,” Soul continues, and Avery bends down, too, in the same fashion. They both leap lightly into the air, one not landing so quietly as the other. Even in her dancing, her rebellious side is popping out. She’s nothing like the rest of her class.

 “Daddy, look!” the small girl exclaims, this time being the one to lead him into the next pose. (Now he _really_ can’t leave. She’s paying more attention to him than he’d anticipated.) She instructs him to lean over to his left, with an extended arm and a pointed foot raising into the air as if lifting into flight, a rough makeshift arabesque pose. He follows suit and they all lean the other way, mirroring the “flight”.

 “See? You’ve got this Ava.” Soul tries to free his hand from hers, but the moment he even starts to tug away, she tightens her grip, dragging him back by her side.

 Not only does this girl have her mother’s stubbornness, but she also has her strength. If it weren’t for the white hair, he would wonder if he contributed anything at all. Maybe he will be lucky and she’ll inherit his weapon gene. At this moment, though, her distraught look begs for him to stay. He still feels the audience’s eyes locked onto him.

 

... _The show must go on_ ….

 

There’s no way Soul can get out of this without another tantrum. But she’s happy. Thanks to evening practices and an energetic, bragging toddler, he knows the routine well enough. Hand in hand, they lift one foot onto their leg, shifting into a passé, then lower it less-than-gracefully back to the ground, Avery pointing her toes last minute. The other foot follows the same motion.

 With the force she’s using, he wonders if they should have named her Godzilla instead. At least she’s _dancing_ , though… With all her fear alleviated in his presence, Avery’s finally showing the crowd before them all the not-so-graceful motions she’s learned in class and bragged about at night when she’s supposed to be asleep. Before they know it, the song is over, and it’s time to take a bow.

 The large applause following marks the end of their performance. One crowd member is even whistling almost louder than the clapping itself. _Of course_ … That damned blue-haired man is wearing a grin from ear to ear. Soul shoots a sharp glance his way, hoping he’ll get the message, but instead, a howl escapes his lips as he lifts his head to the ceiling. From up front, he watches Tsubaki’s jab an elbow into BlackStar’s side in mid-clap. She returns a soft smile.

 Soul shifts his gaze to Maka. It’s a struggle for her to stand, but she’s up and on her feet along with the rest of the audience. She’s smiling as happily as ever, not a single regret on her features. “I’m proud of you,” she quietly motions with a gentle nod. Even in the years past, they’ve maintained their own private language, decipherable only by their strong resonance. Maka holds the camera steadily and waves their way from below.

 

_Oh shit…_

 

The camera… the _fucking camera_! How had he forgotten about that?! Soul got too lost with the other Sugar Plum Fairies, leaping and reaching to the sky with outstretched arms and legs to realize he was being recorded. Now BlackStar _really_ won’t let him live this down since they have real, physical evidence. Maka will probably hang onto this video for the rest of her life, too. Soul’s going to have to make a pact with her, maybe offer to wash the dishes every day, pamper her with back rubs and foot massages, buy her chocolate every time aunt flo--well, he does that anyway.

 Deep down, it doesn’t matter, though. There’s something – _someone_ – more important than an embarrassing home video. Little Avery just finished her first dance recital and is bubbling over in joy. She faced the the crowd and overcame her stage fright. As long as she has a smile on her face, the memory is worth any and every comment they have prepared for him tonight, and he’ll damn well own up to them like the proud father he is!

 Soul and Avery, along with the rest of her class, make a final bow just before the curtain closes. His little girl is bouncing all over the place as they make their way through the backstage toward the exit.

 Any time now, other parents will come pouring through, and he’d rather meet Maka elsewhere. There’s a nagging feeling that tells him he doesn’t want to be back here when everyone piles in to pick up their children, especially with as many flashes that popped up on the phone during their performance.

“Did you see me, daddy?!” she asks, keeping a skip in her step.

 Soul shifts his focus towards his daughter, towards the essence of happiness radiating from her. “Yes, you did great out there, honey! Everyone loved it. But more importantly, did you have a good time?”

 Avery lets go of Soul’s hand and jumps around energetically, barely keeping up with her dad. “Mmmmm hmmmm! Let’s do it again!!”

 “Don’t worry, you’ll get to have another recital,” he answers calmly.

 A few mothers have already come in as they get closer to the door. As he passes them, Avery’s hand in his again (because at this point, he thinks she just may run back off and onto the stage again; she’s bouncing so much, nothing like the crying, sulking, scared little girl she was before), Soul can feel the stares, ones that scream _I wish you were my child’s father_. The admiration - or lust - is building up more and more as he maneuvers around them, brushing them off with brief “thank you”s and “I’ve gotta go”s.

 Twenty years later, and he still doesn’t know how to deal with attention like this. Hell, even Avery is better at talking to people than he is. He doesn’t need a mirror to know he’s turning red; he can feel the heat rising on his cheeks as they walk.

 When the two finally exit the backstage, finding her mother and his friends is a cinch. Maka knows him well, knows his text means exactly what it read. :: _meet me at the door_ :: She can probably already sense his tense desire to leave, to escape from the crowd’s view. She’s probably also too exhausted to stick around. There’s only two weeks left till their little family expands.

 BlackStar, on the other hand, is the first to open his mouth, as expected. With a hard jab on Soul’s shoulder, BlackStar’s voice belts loud enough to be heard from the other side of the building. “Yo! YOOOOO! I want a COPY of that sh-- _footage_!”

 Soul is quick to shut him down. “ _No way_! Gonna have to fight me for that one! Besides, you would have done the exact same thing.”

 “Psh, _naw_! My kid’s gonna be just like me,” his friend gloats. “A go-getter! Not afraid of nothin’!”

 “Uh huh,” Soul dead pans. “If you say so.”  He’ll learn when _he_ becomes a father, too.

 Maka clears her throat audibly, an obvious hint towards the bickering men. Luckily, Avery’s in her own little world, pretending she’s on stage all over again and humming a tune that can’t quite be made out. Small arms flail up and down as she spins around the surprisingly clear lobby. “Careful, honey,” Maka advises, throwing an arm out to block her from running into a wall nearby. “Let’s not break anything, okay?”

 “Okay, Mommy. Woooooooooo! Look, the world is spinning now!” Avery stands still and sends her gaze to the ceiling and counts the circles as they pass. “Whooooa! Whooooa! Whooooa! Whooooa!” Finally the girl tumbles to the ground and looks back up at her parents with a grin.

 Soul can’t help but to chuckle. Her innocence really is something special. The girl is strong in so many ways, so much like her mother. He wishes for nothing more than this moment for her: a simple, fun childhood without the expectations of the world on her shoulders. He and Maka may have helped to save the world from Asura, but Avery saves him in return every time she smiles.

 Tsubaki is as gentle as ever as she kneels down. With a soft smile, she embraces Avery in a hug. “Well, I think you were very brave, Avery! I can’t wait to see your next show!”

 “See? They loved your dancing!” Maka notes. It wasn’t easy getting her on the stage for the first time, and Soul knows the feeling all too well.

 The gathering is suddenly interrupted by an awkward growl. All eyes shift to Maka. A guilty grin is plastered on her face, obvious as the shirt on her shoulder. “Sorry, ah… I guess the little one is hungry again.”

 Soul can’t help but to snort. “Sure, blame the baby, huh? C’mon, guys.”

 “Soul!” Maka’s eyes are daggers. “I swear, I’ll make a copy of-”

 “K-kidding, kidding!” Soul exclaims, shielding his head with raised arms. “C’mon guys. Lets go get some grub. After that intense dance, I’m a little starved, too.


End file.
